


Pleasures Remain, So Does the Pain

by collatorsden_archivist



Category: Ashes to Ashes, Life on Mars & Related Fandoms, Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Angst, Deathfic, M/M, R/NC-17 - Brown Cortina, Time Period: 1981-2006 (Life on Mars)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-20
Updated: 2008-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-20 17:19:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12437811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collatorsden_archivist/pseuds/collatorsden_archivist
Summary: Gene misses Sam, tries to find comfort in someone else, and in pain.





	Pleasures Remain, So Does the Pain

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Janni, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [the Collators' Den](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Collators%27_Den), which was moved to the AO3 to ensure access and longevity for the fanworks. I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in October 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [the Collators' Den collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/collatorsden/profile).

He closes his eyes, grits his teeth against the burning pain; tries in vain to focus on hands that are too rough, too wrong. He turns to look at the blonde man who doesn’t so much look like Sam anymore, not in the harsh glaring light of the dingy motel room. He wishes he could reach the light, turn it off; take care of his shame in the dark where it belongs. Gene feels vulnerable there on all fours, like some sort of dog and he wonders with a sharp stab of regret if that’s how Sam would have felt. He’s never been in this position before, hardly been on the receiving end, save for those few times, flat on his back and lights on so Sam could watch him.

 

 

He remembers he laughed at Sam then; calling him a fairy, nervous laughter masking fear and emotion Gene had never before known the likes of. Later that same night, he’d thought Sam brave, as he’d fought of thoughts of wanting Sam inside him like that forever, as he’d resisted the urge to snuggle up next to Sam, ready to name this thing of theirs. Sam hadn’t been afraid, not like Gene. Gene needed to take Sam from behind and in the dark where he couldn’t see Sam’s face, where Sam couldn’t see Gene, couldn’t see the emotion raw on his face in those moments when Sam opened his body for Gene, took him in without protest, meeting him thrust for thrust and whispering all sorts of words, words Gene wanted and took but could never give. 

 

 

It was what had gotten him there in the first place, flat on his back desperate for something he never knew he wanted; his inability to say those same sorts of words to Sam. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting when he offered himself up to Sam that way, maybe a question of surety, perhaps a refusal, but not what he got, not a quick nod of Sam’s head and a tight smile, not Sam ushering him to the bed without so much as a word. But then, Sam knew, knew that Gene could never say such things, would never give away such a thing as this if it didn’t mean...something. 

 

 

And Sam, he’d been so understanding and gentle, almost too gentle, taking but not without asking and slow, so slow that Gene thought it had been torture, might have been Sam’s sort of pay back for Gene being rough, unyielding and demanding, always pushing Sam and never really asking, just taking what Sam seemed to be offering, running with it and pounding it and Sam into the mattress, grunting and obscene. It had hurt, God it’d hurt so good, to have Sam inside of him, watching him, soothing him with soft hands and softer words, had hurt so much he’d thought he couldn’t stand it. Then Sam had covered him with his body, leaning into him and hitting that sweet spot over and over, tongue lapping at Gene’s lips, words muffled against his lips, begging to watch him come, pleading with him to let go and holding him when he did, rocking him through it, holding on to him for dear life when Gene felt like he was about to drown.

 

 

He feels it now, that drowning sensation, only there is no one to hold on to, no one to save him from the murky depths. The voice from behind him is gruff and harsh; the hands on him too calloused, pumping too hard. He shoves them away, replacing them with his own as the painful pressure builds to a crescendo, thoughts of Sam the only thing in his head as he comes with a strangled cry of words meant for Sam, words he’d never given.


End file.
